


My Feet Are Taking Me To Your Front Door

by bumblebee03



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Partnership, Slow Romance, connor's a caring sweetheart you can't change my mind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebee03/pseuds/bumblebee03
Summary: ‘It’s 4AM, I don’t know where to go, everywhere is closed, I should just go home. My feet are taking me to your front door, I know I shouldn’t though, heaven only knows.’In reality, he had nowhere to go tonight bar for the precinct charging station which had gotten a little lonely after weeks of quietly watching the painfully uninteresting Officer Reed fall asleep despite himself courtesy to a dead night shift. Even his beloved diagnostic routine had become tiresome. All this to say, Connor was unsure, even annoyed; spend another night here, in the most un-challenging environment he’d ever observed, or… what? Spend the night wandering Detroit? Jump buses until sunrise? Sit in a bar and watch humans slowly intoxicate themselves?I just want my boys supportive and happy ok





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for you Conno :)

‘It’s 4 AM, I don’t know where to go, everywhere is closed, I should just go home. My feet are taking me to your front door, I know I shouldn’t though, heaven only knows.’

_Lift distance remaining: 42 feet._  
_Lift distance remaining: 30 feet._  
_Lift distance remaining: 10 feet._  
_Lift distance remaining: 4 feet:_

_Ground floor reached._

**Main objective: Hail a cab outside.**

Connor’s sensors flared up as the soft, ambient lighting of the lift gave way to the harsh fluorescent beams of the precinct’s reception-style ground floor, a sorry shot at simulation of daylight. The desk android stared blandly ahead, unoccupied in the 3 AM quiet of the station, LED glowing dimly, placidly blue. His motors switched on once again from standby, and he strode out of the lift with apparent purpose. In reality, he had nowhere to go tonight bar for the precinct charging station which had gotten a little lonely after weeks of quietly watching the painfully uninteresting Officer Reed fall asleep despite himself courtesy to a dead night shift. Even his beloved diagnostic routine had become tiresome. All this to say, Connor was unsure, even annoyed; spend another night here, in the most un-challenging environment he’d ever observed, or… what? Spend the night wandering Detroit? Jump buses until sunrise? Sit in a bar and watch humans slowly intoxicate themselves? 

The last thought sparked an idea in his algorithm. 

_Intoxication…_ **redirecting** … _alcohol_ … **redirecting…** Hank. 

Hank! Of course, of course Hank! Connor had been to Hank’s home once before, during the Eden Club case. He’d memorised his address and so quickly brought up the coordinates of the location. Surely Hank wouldn’t mind some company? With his self-destructive eating and drinking habits, Connor could only assume his sleeping habits would be equally as irregular. Plus, all things aside, Connor missed Sumo, who was an extremely good boy. Although it probably wasn’t the best idea to bother the Lieutenant at this time of the night, Connor decided he had no other place to spend the night and stepped out through the sliding glass doors of the precinct building into the darkness of Detroit. 

**Main objective: Hail a cab.  
New secondary objective: Go to Lt. Anderson’s house. **

Connor enjoyed the rain; he liked how the streetlights bounced off of the droplets, how a whole entire world could be reflected in the puddles on the pavement. The cool water quickly soaked through his polyester suit jacket down to the shirt underneath, and a shiver-like sensation ran down Connor’s core; definitely something he’d never seen in his program before, as he was not adapted to feel temperature. He decided to ignore the error that popped up in his peripherals and run it to Cyberlife’s troubleshooter later. A few hundred yards away, a single autonomous vehicle was parked, strikingly yellow in the soft black of the night, and Connor quickly made his way over, more eager to watch the rain from somewhere dry; the foreign feeling of his faux-hair sticking to his skin was becoming unpleasant. 

**~~Main objective: Hail a cab.~~**  
**Task complete.**  
**New main objective: Go to Lt. Anderson’s house.**

Connor was glad to finally step inside the vehicle, straightening his tie and wiping away some of the water from his shoulders. He laid back and connected with the GPS system of the car, transmitting the Lieutenant’s co-ordinates and shutting down some unnecessary functions for the remainder of the 20-minute journey to Hank’s neighbourhood.

**Shutting down: Lt. Anderson’s address file… window closed.**  
**Shutting down: Secondary heating process… shutdown complete.**  
**Shutting down: Secondary ventilation process… shutdown complete.**  
**Shutting down: Secondary diagnostic functions... shutdown complete.**  
**Shutting down: Chemical content analysis functions… shutdown complete.**

The car cruised off, headed toward a suburban residential area of the city, and Connor watched with interest as Detroit rolled past him, a blur of artificial lighting and tall, solid structures silhouetted against the night sky. Eventually, the android closed his eyes as they passed the river, choosing instead to formulate an error report for his system instability earlier, filing it under ‘environment detection malfunction’ and promptly sent it to Cyberlife. The rest of the ride was quiet, and Connor relished in the captivating noise of the rain hitting the windows of the car. Its resilient thrumming and pattering made peace with Connor’s sensors, giving him time to focus more on the matter at hand- what would he even say to Hank? Although Connor knew the Lieutenant was kind at heart, he anticipated the situation wouldn’t be optimal to present to any human, let alone the rough, vulgar, lonesome policeman. Would he just ask to stay the night, imply he was short of company? That would probably result in him being flipped a sleepy bird and a shut door in his face. Maybe he’d just use Sumo as an excuse. Hank thought the android ridiculous enough to expect something anyway, so maybe Connor’d get away with it and just take his time until the morning’s sunrise at 7:28. Maybe he could tidy Hank’s reasonably sized two-bedroom bungalow, which, although suitable for family living, was lacking in terms of tidiness. From what the android remembered, the living room was littered in takeaway cartons; sink groaning under the weight of unclean dishes; bath lined with grime the Lieutenant’s hasty tidying wouldn’t reach. Hank might appreciate the gesture- from what Connor understood about most humans, an organized home meant an organized life, and organization was one department Hank lacked in visibly. 

_‘YOU HAVE REACHED YOUR DESTINATION. CARRY OUT YOUR PAYMENT AND EXIT THE VEHICLE, PLEASE. THANK YOU.’_

Connor was disrupted from his processing by the slow halting of the autonomous vehicle and decided to think about Hank once he was at the door. He blinked, restoring his objectives, transferring the money from his Cyberlife-allocated account he used for travel or whatever else might help him in investigation, faintly registering the ‘TRANSACTION COMPLETE’ beep of the machine before exiting it back into the pouring rain; if anything, the weather had only worsened, leaving the android soaked in merely a few seconds. Water dripped off his dark hair onto his smooth freckled skin, absorbed into his clothes, nestled in small puddles amongst the crevices and crinkles in his shoes. It ran down the back of his neck, past the waterproof seal of his wiring panel, into his shirt and down his back in small, cold trails, bringing Connor’s temperature down to a cool 25C. A few stray droplets slipped to his eyes, making them even brighter and glossier; the faint yellow glow of the streetlights and of Hank’s porch light reflected from the brown pools, dusting them with gold. 

**~~Main objective: Go to Lt. Anderson’s house.~~**  
**Task complete.**  
**New main objective: Talk to Lt. Anderson.**

The android turned his attention to Hank’s home- from the outside, it looked neat and reflected Hank’s work- it was well made in a good neighbourhood, and Connor knew Hank’s hard work in the force hadn’t been for nothing. The garage, containing Hank’s thrice restored ‘89 Toyota Crown was closed, front garden tidy with a few plants and bushes, a deserted flowerbed with nothing in it. Connor could only assume that was the past, forgotten work of whoever Hank had lived with long before they had met. None of the lights in the Lieutenant’s home were on, but the faint glare of his television flickered through what could only be the living room window. Curtains drawn, windows shut, and, after Connor briefly checked the kitchen window, also repaired, Hank was effectively isolated from not only his road but the entirety of the city; were it not for his single television light, one might never even know he was there. Ditching his exploration of the grounds, Connor made his way to the front door. He examined the double-locked oak fixture, a few stray scratches from Sumo present in the bottom corner. The door had no knocker, by now out of fashion, and the small button of the doorbell twinkled with the rainwater covering its surface. Fixing his tie once more, rain still dripping down his face, onto his shoulders, from his fingers, he pressed the buzzer for a few seconds and waited. He heard the television inside being turned down and the quiet shuffle of tired, bare feet before the oak door gave way to a bright hallway light framing Lieutenant Anderson’s weary, sleepy features. Connor flashed his polite, custom smile and straightened his shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is shook and wouldn't you be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

‘Good morning, Lieutenant. Did I wake you?’ He opened, neutrally, waiting to see Hank’s reaction and ready to choose his approach. Hank blinked, blinked again, and rubbed his eyes, looking at Connor as though he wasn’t sure if he was really standing at his door.

‘Connor? What the fuck are you doing here?’ Hank muttered, voice rough but quiet. The usual bite of his words was gone, swept away by the night, and as Connor noticed, the booze. He was leaning onto the doorway, dragging his hands over his face in an attempt to wake himself up some.

Connor took it as a good sign that Hank was not angry or displeased to see him; he found himself smiling again. ‘I was bored of the precinct and remembered your house. I’d hoped to pay you a visit if that’s alright. I understand if you wish otherwise, and will promptly take my leave, Lieutenant.’

Hank, a little more aware of himself, took a better look at Connor and groaned, running a hand through his tangled hair. It was clean but un-brushed, falling about his face freely and quite handsomely. He wore a very old, but comfortable looking hoodie with the DPD logo barely clinging onto the fabric, and a pair of shorts slung around his hips. If it weren’t for his age, for the state he was in after a couple of years of heavy drinking, Hank would clean up nicely. He had a very boyish, fresh feel about him, a different atmosphere and outlook, underneath all the cynicism and bitterness and old age. He shook his head as Connor beamed at him.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, you’re soaked! Get your ass inside,’ Hank grumbled, moving wearily aside to make space for Connor, ‘I don’t want you breaking down on my goddamn property or these Cyberlife bastards will sue me to hell.’

**~~Main objective: Talk to Lt. Anderson.~~  
Task complete.  
New main objective: Get Lt. Anderson’s permission to stay the night.  
 If successful: New secondary objective: Spend the night.   
 If unsuccessful: New main objective: Go back to the precinct.**

Connor tilted his head forward in a sign of thanks and stepped over Hank’s doorstep, into the bright, white light of the hallway. He heard the click of the front door closing faintly while he adjusted his optical sensors to match the exposure inside the home. The hallway was simple, bare, a few traces of muddy dog and footprints on the laminate below his feet, and Connor looked around inquisitively to map and retain more of Hank’s house; his walls a comfortable but neutral cream, there were no picture frames hung up- no sign of the life Connor knew Hank once lived. He was briefly aware of the small puddle his shoes and dripping clothes were leaving on the Lieutenant’s floor and thought to come and clean it up later if the time allowed. He turned to Hank again, smiling openly, eyes focused; gaze attentive, like a resilient dog waiting for its next instructions. Hank sighed at the disaster freshly having landed in his hallway and pointed to somewhere further inside his home.

‘Come on, let’s sit down quickly and you’re gonna tell me why the fuck you’re here.’

The android complied with Hank’s request, wet squelch of his shoes barely present alongside the soft pads of the older man’s feet on the floor. They made their way to the kitchen, open-plan style adjacent to the living room, and Hank set down his heavy frame on a chair at the central dinner table, gesturing for Connor to do the same. As he took a seat at the table, he quickly scanned the room; Hank’s kitchen sported a wall of cream fittings, cupboards, with a granite-patterned countertop. The sink, like expected, had a multitude of dirty dishes in its depths, forgotten by Hank. One of the cupboards was left open, and Connor could make out from his place at the table a few different varieties of whiskeys and assorted liqueurs, an almost empty bottle of Black Lamb (Hank’s apparent favourite) and a few abandoned bottles of red wine. He focused his attention back to the man sitting across from him, the sleepy frown on his face accentuated by the lines of age. Hank shifted in his seat, placed his hands on his table, and leaned back in his chair, looking at Connor with something in-between annoyance and humour; after all the android was a sight, with damp hair drooping onto his forehead, glossy eyes and blue thirium flush to his face from the cold.

‘Can you tell me,’ Hank opened, studying Connor’s relaxed, polite expression, ‘why the fuck you’re in my house at…’ he paused, eyeing the digital clock on his oven, ‘4:32 in the morning, Connor?’ 

‘Well, Lieutenant, I have wanted to see your dog again for quite a while… and I guess I reckoned you might also be lonely or want some company,’ Connor replied, eyes shifting to the kitchen window, where the unrelenting rain and wind pounded the double glazing, ‘it is a dreary night.’

Hank seemed to think about that for a second, before frowning. ‘Cut the shit, Connor, and tell me why you’re really here,’ he said, raising his eyebrows in doubt.

The android shifted in his chair, avoiding the Lieutenant’s gaze in fear of rejection. ‘I got lonely. The precinct is lonely and there’s nowhere suitable where I can spend the night, Lieutenant. I’d hoped that maybe I could do so here.’

For a second, the smallest fraction of time, Hank’s expression softened slightly. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully, considering his options, eyes still training on the neat little robot in front of him. ‘So, you got nowhere to go, huh?’ He repeated back, unnecessary confirmation nobody needed.

‘Unless the precinct or Cyberlife headquarters count, I do not, Lieutenant.’

‘Well,’ Hank opened, slapping his hands on the table, and making a move to stand, ‘guess it can’t be helped. You can take the couch,’ he got up, stretching his sore muscles, and waved Connor off as the android opened his mouth to thank him. ‘It’s fine, Connor. I have bigger pains in the ass than you, surprisingly. Now let me grab you something to change into. You look like shit.’ 

Hank disappeared into his bedroom and re-emerged carrying a small folded up stack of clothes. He lay back on the counter and pointed Connor towards the bathroom, pouring himself another drink to pass the time, shaking his head in despair. In the meantime, Connor gingerly stepped through across the living room, careful not to get mud on the carpet, towards the bathroom, which, although not in a noticeably bad state, still needed some attention. The android set the clothes Hank’d handed him on the edge of the bath and made quick work of peeling off his wet suit, folding that up too and setting it on top of the laundry basket. Picking back up one of the items from Hank’s pile, Connor unfolded a worn off-white Detroit Destroyers t-shirt which, while probably now too small for Hank, was considerably oversized on him. Connor quickly slipped on the shirt, enjoying the feeling of the soft, over-washed fabric, and made equally as quick progress with putting on the royal blue basketball shorts Hank had also provided. Not used to seeing his legs too often, Connor spent a minute or two observing the colour of the clothes, the feel of them, appreciated their dryness and cleanliness. He shook some of the water out of his hair and pushed it back to its original place, before heading back to the kitchen where Hank was waiting. 

‘Thank you, Lieutenant. These will be quite suitable,’ Connor told Hank, a small smile of gratitude forming on his lips. He tapped the kitchen floor with his foot, curious over the texture and coolness of the tile there. Hank stared on, too tired to deal with the android’s antics and infuriating handsomeness at this time of the morning.

‘Unless you need anything else Mr. Skinny Legend, I’m gonna crash,’ he declared, dropping his glass in the sink and moving away from the counter. 

‘Good night, Lieutenant.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Connor watched Hank shuffle out of the kitchen, stopping by his bedroom door before calling out, ‘And cut the “Lieutenant” bullshit! Outside of work, it’s just Hank. ’

**~~Main objective: Get Hank’s permission to stay the night.~~  
Task complete.  
New main objective: Spend the night.  
New secondary objective: Take care of Sumo  
New secondary objective: Clean dishes  
New secondary objective: Tidy living room  
New secondary objective: Wash laundry  
New secondary objective: Clean bathroom  
Downloading Household Maintenance Function Pack… loading 3%... loading 45%... loading 86%... download complete. **  
_Please input your issued activation code to proceed._  
Yxd46hJOlqR  
 **Verifying…verification successful. Welcome to HomeSmart.**  
 _Current time: 4:46AM_  
Time until sunrise remaining: 2 hours 42 minutes.  
Time until Hank wakes up remaining: est. 4 hours 44 minutes.  
Time until work remaining: 5 hours 14 minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

Connor watched Hank leave curiously, still smiling, and kept his eyes on the door even after it had closed while he processed the events of the night. He was pleased that Hank let him stay, happy to get to see Sumo again, enjoyed feeling accepted by his work partner. He created a new file for this memory and backed it up in multiple places, along with the strange feeling of Hank’s clothes and floor. With that, he restored his previous objectives along with his timers, and moved to find Hank’s cleaning supplies; he opened a few cupboards until he found some bleach, window and bathroom cleaner, along with some wood and floor polish, some sponges and other disinfectants. A quick search of the airing cupboard also procured a broom, mop and Roomba vacuum. Satisfied with his findings, Connor cleared the kitchen table of the few glasses and tablecloth, setting that in a ‘laundry’ pile in the middle of the kitchen floor, and set down all his equipment. He started with the living room, first by collecting all the trash lying around, empty food boxes and empty beer cans or bottles of booze, all which were thrown in a bag and put in the hallway to be followed by many more. Discarded jackets and other pieces of clothing ended up in the laundry pile. He brought over the small automated Roomba and turned it on, setting it down on the carpet, and made quick work of removing the couch’s cushions’ covers, throwing them to the side. The coffee table was wiped down, used as a temporary resting place for Hank’s books and knickknacks while Connor dusted and polished his dark wooden shelves, before re-ordering them alphabetically by author. He dusted the television set too and went around opening all the windows he could get to, in order to let some of the fresh night air back inside now that the rain was easing up. 

Satisfied with the living room’s decent look, Connor retrieved the laundry basket from the bathroom, emptying it out onto the kitchen floor and started the first load of laundry, setting the washer-dryer to the fastest option; one load would take 20 minutes to wash, and 20 to dry. He moved on to the bathroom, bringing with him a bottle of thick citrus bleach, the mop and some cleaning sponges. In the time it took for the first load of laundry, the bathroom turned from a sad, unorganized mess, to showroom standard. The android threw out all empty bottles, old medicine and replaced the hand towels; Hank’s mirror notes were arranged neatly around the spotless edge of it, and after Connor found a pen and the rest of the empty sticky notes, he added a few of his own, bringing up in his google search of uplifting quotes cheesy shit like ‘The only way is up!’, ‘Be the writer of your own story!’, ‘The sun can’t shine if you draw the curtains!’ all written in perfect Cyberlife Sans. He even made his own version of a ‘doodle’, after bringing up a picture of Sumo and recreating it with endearing photo-realism. These, too, were stuck around the mirror, except for Sumo who went in the middle. 

Connor returned to the kitchen, replacing the clean laundry with more dirty clothes, and organised the first set of them into small separate piles. Cautious not to enter Hank’s bedroom while he was asleep, the android decided to leave the folded laundry neatly on the couch for the moment. For the next 40 minutes, Connor took care of the kitchen, washing and re-organising all of the Lieutenant’s plates, cups and bowls into their respective cupboards, wiping down the countertops and doors. He threw out any out-of-date food in the refrigerator and food cupboard, and made a mental shopping list,

**New secondary objective: Restock Hank’s kitchen.  
** **New list document created: ‘Groceries’**  
__Page 1:  
• Coffee  
• Washing-up Liquid  
• Bread  
• Eggs  
• Milk  
• Meat produce (varied)  
• Vegetables/Fruit (varied)  
• Flour  
• Sugar  
• Low-fat/Healthy options for produce?  
• Pasta (varied)  
• Dog food 

and cleared the kitchen table of cleaning supplies, before cleaning it one more time and mopping the floor thoroughly. The washer-dryer pinged once more to signify another finished load, which Connor folded and set aside, before throwing in the last of the laundry for a final time. As the machine whirred to life again, Connor whistled for Sumo, who he had seen sleeping peacefully by the computer unit earlier but had decided not to bother him. The old dog lifted his head at the call, and dutifully made his way to the android’s feet, letting out a soft ‘borf’ in greeting. Connor smiled at the pet, kneeling down on the newly-clean floor and gave the fluffy monster some attention.

‘Where’s your leash, boy?’ He cooed at the dog, making a walking motion with his hands. Sumo perked his head up, and padded his way to the hallway, bringing back a black leash in his slobbery mouth. Connor laughed softly and patted the dog’s head in praise, before attaching the leash to his collar. Checking outside, the rain had thankfully ceased and so Connor grabbed one of Hank’s larger coats and slipped it on, to make his shorts look less weird at 6:43 in the morning. The laundry would be done at 7:22, which gave Connor enough time to not only walk Sumo, but also shop for the groceries he needed, and so he retrieved his own shoes from the bathroom, grabbed the three rubbish bags to dump outside and set out into the darkness with Sumo beside him. He’d be back just in time for the sunrise. 

**Main objective: ‘Spend the night’ is in progress.**  
~~**Secondary objective: Wash laundry**~~  
~~**Secondary objective: Clean dishes**~~  
~~**Secondary objective: Tidy living room**~~  
~~**Secondary objective: Clean bathroom**~~  
**Tasks complete.**  
**Secondary objective: Take care of Sumo**  
**Secondary objective: Restock Hank’s kitchen.**

Connor’s map showed that the supermarket was relatively close to Hank’s home; a brisk 15 minute walk was all it took to reach the large 24 hr store, thankfully open at this time. Sumo bounded along with Connor’s quick, large strides, taking immeasurable joy from the fresh, near-dawn air, happily barking at passing cars and any bird he spotted. Likewise, Connor also enjoyed observing the outside; the sky no longer inky black, but rather a slate blue-grey before the sun had the chance to set it afire, with a light post-rain breeze rustling the leaves on nearby trees. They were lucky enough to catch the pre-morning rush, reveling in the quiet buzz of the downtown community. Upon reaching the store, Connor scanned and located all the items he required off his list amongst the many shelves, and, having had to leave Sumo outside, hurried along and loaded everything in a trolley, wheeling it to the cashier. The android there smiled at him tamely, emptily, and scanned his shopping efficiently and quickly.

‘That will be $47.22. Please transfer your payment.’ 

Connor’s LED flickered yellow momentarily, as he sent over the money to the android. It blinked and smiled again. ‘Transaction complete. Thank you for shopping at Samuel’s All-Nite. We hope to see you again soon.’ It carried on looking at Connor as he packed all the shopping in bags quickly, and gave another seemingly customary wave goodbye as Connor made his way back outside into the fresh, dim daylight of the suburbs, un-tying Sumo’s leash from the dog post.  
They enjoyed another short walk back towards Hank’s still surely quiet house. The whole ordeal hadn’t taken long at all, and Connor even allowed himself a little smile when he saw it was only 7:00 AM. He was satisfyingly ahead of schedule, and this satisfaction fuelled him into a chirpy jog home beside the excited, albeit tired dog in his care, right up until they reached Hank’s doorstep: Sumo in a right state from his age and physical condition, much like his grumpy owner, while Connor was still as unaffected and flawless as before. He unlocked the door and quietly slipped in, the clock on the wall ticking its 7:11 face at him dryly; slipping off the shoes and coat and storing them away accordingly, Connor let Sumo off his leash to go back to his oversized bed by the computer and, as he had 11 minutes left until the last lot of laundry was done, he gingerly sat down on the couch, careful not to topple the three towers of perfectly folded clothes on one side and fiddled with the remote controller. A re-run of an old TV drama blared loudly up on the screen, and Connor jumped in panic, wishing terribly to let Hank sleep and not make him even more mad than usual. Once he turned the volume down, the android tried to settle back as humanly as possible, lowering his thirium pump rate down a few notches and closing his eyes, half-listening to whatever else was coming from the screen.

Finally, the washer pinged with its tell-tale sign to let Connor know it had finished, and he let his eyes open again slowly; Hank’s worn, soft couch, the white noise of the television, it had lulled Connor to a much less functional state of rest. Slowly, he took in his surroundings once more, and shut the TV, heading towards the kitchen and restoring all his previously paused processes. The last of the clothes were put away and Connor let out a breath he wasn’t holding, since he technically didn’t breathe like that. He looked around at his handiwork, decidedly proud of the change he’d made and thought that Hank would surely appreciate the gesture. 

Eager to catch the sunrise, Connor found the back door and headed out at 7:26AM, where from Hank’s garden, low-fenced and without any intrusive trees, the burning sky could be seen quite clearly. Hank’s garden, too, was an interesting sight-although not overgrown, it didn’t possess the tidiness of a suburban family garden where children and a dog would play. Some more flowers lay wilted and forgotten in a few hanging flowerpots, and around the edge of the garden too. Close to the back door was a wooden picnic table, to which Connor made his way over and sat on the top of it to make his view even clearer. Although the garden wasn’t huge, it was still spacious, and Connor could only imagine what kinds of wonderful memories would have been made here. Towards the back, a rained-on standing swing rocked backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards with the breeze, and by it stood proudly, painted in bright primary colours, a fort built out of wooden planks; Connor could only assume it was made by Hank, as he couldn’t match it to any catalogue model in his commercial files. He smiled a little, marvelled at the tingling, chilly feeling of seeing somebody else’s memories before his eyes. He wouldn’t mention it to Hank, of course, but Connor knew he was always right about him being soft on the inside. Meanwhile, the sun had peeked out from below the low fence and spilled light across Connor’s thoughts, painting his skin with fire and gold, dripping through the sky like molten rock and honey. He took it all in, eyes widening with newfound wonder, and saved many images of the scene before him; in just a few minutes, the sky danced from romantic pinks and hot, flaming reds to mellow, regal golds and crimson, to pale blues and yellows, twisting about in a miraculous ‘good morning’ in front of Connor’s eyes. It was now 7:40, and knowing Hank wouldn’t be up until at least 9:30, Connor decided he might as well run his diagnostics and go into rest mode until 9:15. He stepped off the picnic table, padded barefoot through the garden again to the back door, and slipped in as quietly as he could. He took his place on the couch once more, not bothering with the television again, and closed his eyes.

 **Shutting down: Secondary heating process… shutdown complete.**  
**Shutting down: Secondary ventilation process… shutdown complete.**  
**Shutting down: Cleaning program…shutdown complete.**  
**Shutting down: ‘list document ‘Groceries’’…file closed.**  
**Starting up: Diagnostic Program…start up in process.**  
_Do you wish to proceed with Diagnostic Program?_  
Yes  
_Start-up complete._  
**Diagnostic Program ‘Di/Pro’ is now running.**  
_Please go into standby while Cyberlife transfers the necessary trouble-shooters to your system._  
**Initiating: Standby Mode…**

As Hank’s hallway clock showed 9:15 to nobody in particular, ticked lonelily and quietly, Connor’s timer reset back to zero and he came out of his diagnostic state gradually. It was fully light outside now, and the bright, crisp autumn morning light flared through the gaps in the slightly askew blinds. Connor winced and turned away as the unexpected sensory input hit his eyes, and he moved his fingers and limbs around to make them mobile again. He felt great; satisfied with his work, happy to experience the sunrise, thankful to Hank for letting him stay here. Decisively, he stood from the couch, allowed his sensors to recalibrate from the change of altitude and angle, and made his way silently to the cool kitchen. He found an old-fashioned radio and some old CDs, most rock or heavy metal, and among them a Peggy Lee ‘greatest hits’ disc. The date on the back indicated this music was at least 70 to 80 years old. He slipped it into the CD player of the radio and turned the volume relatively low, still hesitant to wake Hank up himself. There was a pause as the disc was read, and then soft, sensual blues and jazz began filtering through the speakers; the lady’s husky but smooth voice sung about love, and fevers and Connor was confused at the metaphor use but found himself enjoying it anyway, swaying his head and shoulders slightly as he paced around the kitchen, gathering ingredients together to make Hank a surely very rare breakfast. Nothing close to fancy, just eggs, bacon, French toast and the like; as much as Connor would have loved to enforce some healthy eating habits onto Hank as soon as he physically could, he also realised this ‘thank you’ gesture would go down much better with the Lieutenant. He flicked on the kettle on the countertop and made Hank a strong black coffee, setting it down on the table along with an empty plate and some cutlery. Peggy Lee was somehow very catchy, actually, and Connor found himself softly humming along, completely in tune, with ‘Ain’t We Got Fun’. 

At 9:32, as if swayed by the pure force of Connor’s estimation, Hank’s bedroom door creaked open and the Lieutenant’s heavy, bare footfalls stopped at the end of the little hallway before the living room. His eyes were still closed, his bed hair even messier than before, and he was rubbing his face awake slowly. A great, jaw-cracking yawn made him arch his back and stretch, and he immediately groaned and cursed as multiple joints and cracked, popped, and ultimately hurt. The soft light from the living room and kitchen windows fell on his face in hazy lengths, framing and blurring his hard features away; he forced his eyes open, and his eyebrows inched up, and then together, as he took in the sight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinda short but i wanted to post this so bad  
> thanks for all the love :)

‘Fuckin’-A, kid,’ he whispered, voice weary and gruff, ‘Cyberlife teach you this shit?’

Connor’s voiced danced over from the kitchen, his back turned as he finished up his cooking. ‘Studies show tidy homes lead to increased mental wellbeing, Hank.’

Hank merely chuckled in response, wobbling further into the kitchen, and breathed in. ‘What’cha got cooking there, kiddo?’

Connor turned around on cue with a neatly arranged, mouth-watering plate of breakfast and set it down next to Hank’s slowly cooling coffee. He smiled slightly, proud of his work once more, and motioned for Hank to sit down, wiping his hands on a clean cloth and lowering himself into the chair opposite of him. Hank’s eyebrows shot up again, a look of pleased surprise on his face returning, and followed Connor’s directions swiftly, propping himself at the table and testing out the food with a barely contained smile. 

‘You didn’t need to, Connor.’

‘I just wanted to th… uh, my social protocols indicated-’

‘Wanted to, huh?’

Connor looked away, confused with himself. Wanted? He thought about sending this to Cyberlife too, but decided against it. Simply an error, a small glitch in his vocabulary database, nothing more than that, so why should he worry about it? 

**Selecting words to blacklist:**  
_• Want/ed/ing/s_  
**Your settings have been changed.**

_Click… click._

‘Connor! You there?’ Connor startled from his train of thought by Hank clicking his fingers in front of his face, a mildly concerned expression lightly covered in fake annoyance; as Connor came to, the Lieutenant scoffed and went back to his food with a dismissive chuckle, shaking his head lightly. ‘It’s like they programmed you to be a dumbass.’

‘I apologise, Lieutena-, Hank. My software seems to be experiencing some… instabilities,’ began Connor, reaching to straighten his wrist cuffs before remembering that there were indeed none, settling his hands on the wood grain of the table, unable to feel it but distracting himself with the fluctuating pressure input from the action. He felt his thirium regulator speed up to keep up with his cooling systems, now that something resembling nervousness dissolved through his skin.

Hank was still eyeing Connor subtly, watching as Connor squirmed under his gaze. ‘Cheer up kid, Cyberlife isn’t listening right now.’ He nodded slightly as Connor met his eyes again, in a sign of empathy, and finally put his fork back onto his plate, sighing contentedly. 

‘You’ve outdone yourself, Connor, really.’

‘Let me get that for you, Hank.’

Connor stood up, smoothing his t-shirt over his abdomen and straightening the collar. The dull, nearly grey material sat nicely atop his cool, lightly tanned complexion, made the marks and freckles on his neck and arms stand out a little more. Like an endless sky splattered with stars and planets, no one patch of him was the same as another, and this contrast was what made him so impressive- every flaw, inconsistency in his appearance, something that a human would receive by nature’s pick and mix alone, he had had it set by default through a few thousand lines of code. Indeed this quality was spatial; it was vast and dominating and suffocating, even fearsome. His stance, so delicate and well-balanced for an android of his stature accentuated the smooth lines of his frame, from the line of his shoulders to the slender joints of his wrists and ankles. It would be impossible to imagine he could punch through steel or take down a human twice, thrice his size in half the time. 

Hank became acutely away of how much he was staring at the miracle of computing, that is to say (reluctantly) the lovable goof of a police android stood before him in all his innocent, bright-eyed glory and shook himself off before his lower jaw fell onto the empty plate as Connor made a move to pick it up, along with his lukewarm coffee, turning away to the sink.

‘You’re really something, huh?’ he muttered under his breath, low enough for a normal human to miss, but not Connor.

‘I’m unsure what you mean, Hank,’ he quipped, smiling a small but also confused smile to the faucet, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

Shit, he heard that? Explain that, fucker. ‘Well, you know Connor; you’re… y’know, complex, right?’

As Connor turned back around, hands still damp, he bristled with something resembling pride. His smile for Hank widened a little, and he nodded his head in confirmation. 

‘That is correct, Hank. I am the most advanced model Cyberlife has made to date. My prototype model has taken Cyberlife 3 years to fully assemble and optimize.’

Hank only hummed in response, internally sighing with relief at how oblivious Connor was and thanking his luck, mood greatly improved by his caffeine dose and a full stomach. He made a move to get up and took a few strides to the sink to get himself some water- a rarity. An awkward pat landed on Connor’s shoulder where he stood, and upon facing Hank, he found him awkwardly smiling over his glass. 

‘Thanks a bunch, Connor, for the breakfast,’ he started, ‘and fuck me, for the place as well,’ he continued, throwing his arm out to refer to his living room, ‘I don’t know what an old bastard like me did to deserve that, but… yeah…’ he trailed off, the rush of gratitude fizzling out into Hank’s more visible social ineptitude.  
Connor said nothing but simply smiled back, making a mental note to store this moment in its own separate file again. Mission Successful, he thought. Mission goddamn successful. He checked his timer quickly, clearing his old objectives and setting new ones.

**~~Secondary objective: Take care of Sumo~~ **  
**~~Secondary objective: Restock Hank’s kitchen.~~ **  
**Tasks Complete**  
**New main objective: Get to work.**

_Time until work: 15 min_  
_Est. time for Hank to be ready: 26 min_

**New message: Detroit Police Department, Capt. Jeffrey Fowler**

Lt. Anderson and his partner RK800 will arrive an estimated 30 minutes late to the precinct, due to Lt. Anderson’s ill health and problems with waking up. Sincere apologies for any inconveniences created. RK800.

**Confirm Message?**  
** Yes**  
**Your message has been delivered.**


End file.
